


A Word for Friend

by estelendur



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-06-30 22:34:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15761094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estelendur/pseuds/estelendur
Summary: Ari convinces Zrill that she needs a word for friend besides "One I dislike less than the others."D&D characters bro-ing it up. :)





	A Word for Friend

"You need a word for people you truly like, Zrill," said Ari. He was perched on the edge of the table while she sat in a chair facing away from him, and he was combing her hair out gently.

"Nonsense. The Drow word is fine. I dislike you less than the others. Perfectly true." Zrill sat stone-still. "You _are_ kind enough to braid my hair in the traditional style of your people, and I appreciate that."

Ari smiled. "You are fortunate that my sister was able to draw the traditional braids for a skald when I wrote to her. But you are wandering from the road, Zrill."

"I would _never_ try to distract you from a potentially embarrassing conversation." She did move now, looking over her shoulder and batting her eyelashes at him, as innocent as a cat caught with a mouse squirming below its paw.

"Ha." Ari laughed fondly. "I have begun to suspect that you enjoy my company, and that you trust me. It is sweet."

"That is crazy talk. When you're done, I'll give your hair some attention." Zrill hummed a tune she was working on until Ari finished the braids and tapped her on the shoulder with the brush. She turned and looked him up and down. "You're so tall, I could probably do your hair standing behind you."

"And let me be alone in the indignity of table-sitting?" Ari contrived to look sad.

Zrill rolled her eyes and took her place on the table. "Yes, your Highness." She began detangling. "What do you wash your hair with—sand? I wouldn't put it past you Sand Vikings. I haven't seen tangles this bad since someone's idiot yappy dog fell in a briar bush and then a mud puddle!"

"It is kind of you to brush it for me, since I cannot be trusted to care for it myself. Moreso, I am pleased that you have learnt my braid patterns to help me feel at home and cared for. My friend, you need a word that means more than toleration."

Zrill hummed a few bars of the song she had composed for Ari. "Are you going to offer a word whether I accept it or not?"

Ari hummed the next few bars. "I would be hurt if you refuse, but I would live."

"Oh, _fine_. What is it?"

" _Felagi_. It is Dwarvish, and is used for those with whom you choose to travel and fight beside. It means your sibling in arms, who will defend your heart as well as your heart's blood." Ari reached up and grasped Zrill's forearm lightly. "So much at least are you to me, and I believe I to you."

Zrill placed her other hand over his and squeezed. "That is very touching. Is that how you think of me, then?" She tried out the word, replicating the pronunciation precisely. "Felagi? Felagi."

"Yes, nearly. It is not the only way I call you in my mind."

"What other name do you give me in that inner monologue of yours?"

" _Minn hvass elska_ ," Ari said. "It means 'my prickly fond friend.'"

"Hey!" Zrill tapped him on the head with the brush, holding his hair so he wouldn't dodge. He laughed. She grumbled. "I can't argue with that. Now let me fix your hair; it's not done yet."

"Your fault," he teased, and leaned back in contentment. "Mín felagi."

"Mín felagi," Zrill replied.


End file.
